The Mariana Trench
by FlickityMoth
Summary: Things you see on the T.V are usually impersonal. Distant. You never consider that maybe what you see will happen to you. Take Percy for example, he never considered that maybe he was a half-blood; that he would be taken away. But he was wrong. (Alternative universe. Nico/Percy)


Percy knew what half bloods were, and what happened to them. He watched the news.

Or he at least knew half of what happened to them. A half-blood is discovered, captured and contained. They're abandoned pets headed to the shelter. Percy had seen footage of them being lead by officers in bronze vests to Olympus Asylum. Not an insane asylum; it was claimed to be a "Behavioural rehabilitation and refuge for half-bloods". Politics called it a B.R.R.H. Ordinary people pronounced it a 'Burr'. Activists sometimes called it a 'Bird' (B.R.R.D; saying demigods instead of half-bloods) or better yet a 'Brrd Cage' something no one did if they valued their private life.

The Government claimed it was for everyone's safety; the foundation of Olympus Asylum. It was in everyone's best interest to put these people in Burrs; in Brrd Cages. Everyone including both the ordinary people of society and the half bloods themselves. In light of past wars, they were right.

It seemed to all make perfectly reasonable sense. No one questioned the fact that so many half-bloods entered, but very few came out. Olympus Asylum was there for wayward half-bloods to learn to control their talents, camouflage their scent to monsters, and become proper citizens of Society. Even though there were some half-bloods that didn't go quietly. At high costs.

It was a distant, impersonal image to watch. The events on the screen had no effect on Percy's day to day life as a middle school student. No importance, except maybe as small talk between curious people. Small talk that quickly lost the attention of an ADHD mind. His Step father — Gabe — would agree that it had no impact on his life, and would enforce this point by giving an example of what would; not taking out the trash for his dear daddy, for instance. This would impact his life, because daddy might decide that mummy hadn't been treating Percy right, hadn't been teaching him right, so best daddy gave mummy a good smack on the mouth. This would impact his life, because mummy does everything, and Percy's a worthless piece of shit who relies too much on her. See? It's a circle. The only circle Percy should be concerned about. School comes second to that circle. And Half-bloods come dead, dead, dead, dead, dead last. It is very important that daddy speaks in this heavy-lipped tone, the kind reserved only for babies and Percy, because Percy is retarded. Because Percy can't read for shit. Because Percy is a drop out, who can't stay in the one school for more than a year before something happens.

But Gabe was out that fateful night; drinking and playing poker with his friends somewhere else. So Retarded, worthless Percy had the house entirely to himself. And he couldn't be happier. Except that he could, but never will.

He was lying on his bed at ten past seven with a panda pillow pet under his chin and a plate of blue cookies next to him. He was lazily scrolling down the latest assignment on his laptop. The T.V chattered to his left; another terrorist attack. He wasn't really paying attention to the T.V.

His brain committed suicide shortly after reading _'Question 1: what are...'_, and stared at the rest of it in a blur of sleepy disinterest. His dyslexia made the letters vibrate on the screen.

"I can't even read this," He muttered.

After a couple more out-of-focus pages, his cheek found the back of his hand and he fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Percy found himself at the beach, skipping stones along the glassy sea.<p>

He felt unnerved; he knew the sea was not suppose to be that docile. The waves were lapping the sand, the rim of white foam struggling to reach him. Meanwhile a storm brewed in the sky; the billowing clouds high and imposing like the roof of a cathedral over the smooth, blue floor of the sea.

He heard screams caught on the wind behind him, but he just kept skipping stones, trying to ignore them.

When the sea foam managed to touch his toes, it stuck to them like a frothy web. They engulfed his feet, bubbling and fizzing. He stumbled away from the tide with his new pair of foam socks. They traveled up his legs and caused him to fall on his rump. Once he was down, a wave suddenly crashed over him; embracing him in cold water before retreating. Power swelled inside of him, like someone had switched the _on_ button in his core. The glassy waters became alive with twisting columns of tornadoes touching the storm's ceiling, sinking pits of whirlpools dropping into blackness and battling waves crashing together like the sea was wresting with his new found energy, he rose, and the world around him formed a strange sort of suction at his movement.

He jolted awake and punched himself in the tooth.

He rolled on his side, groaning into his bedsheets at the throbbing in his face. The door bell rang cheerfully down the hall. "Coming! Hold on!"

He got up to answer the door while sucking on his sore tooth and shaking the sting from his hand. The door bell kept ringing, _Ding-ding, ding-ding, di-di-ding-ding,_ sometimes repeating over itself like that. Whoever was at the door was frantic.

When Percy opened it, Grover burst in with a forced grin and shell shocked eyes. Before Percy could say anything close to a greeting, he had the air squeezed out of his lungs from the pressure of his best friend's hug.

"Hey, easy there. What's up?" Percy laughed nervously.

"O-o-oh you know just dropping by..." His words rushed out in a flurry of high-strung notes.

Grover limped to the window and peered out. The street lamps of the city turned his mopy curls bright orange. His pupils dilated, and — for a moment — they seemed to slit, like a goat's.

Percy went to tap his friend on the shoulder, "Hello? Grover? What's up, man? Why so tense?"

Grover flinched away before squeaking, "what? Oh nothing. It's nothing. Just walking in the streets at this time, you know? Got me jittery. I get like that. I'm a coward, ha-ha. What about you, wassup?"

"Not much I've just been working on my ho-..."

"That's great! Listen, Percy. How 'bout you come over my place for tonight? The families away, you know, and I'd really like some company. I also don't want you here alone."

Percy frowned, before chuckling, "I appreciate the concern, but mum's coming home soon anyways. Why don't you stay over here? She'd be glad to-..."

"No!" Grover suddenly exclaimed, "I mean, nah. No. Uh...I'd prefer to be at home, you know? I'd hate to bother you guys. Let's just go."

Percy raised an eyebrow but said alright. He would've asked more questions, but Grover was already packing Percy's bag for him. Percy went to text his mum but Grover took it away and said he'd call her for him. Next thing he knew, Grover's out the door with his bag.

Percy followed.

* * *

><p>The air was nippy, biting him through his clothes, and Percy had taken his backpack upon his own shoulders. He didn't want Grover to trouble himself with Percy's burdens, what with the disease in his legs.<p>

Grover was very clearly agitated. Whenever a car drove by his loud breathing would catch in his throat. When the car passed, he exhaled a cloud of white and continued on towards his house.

"So what's the problem?" Percy asked.

"Problem? No problem. Ju-just scared shitless of being alone is all," Grover flashed a sheepish grin, before getting out a cigarette and lighting it up. Percy was still getting use to seeing the stick in his friend's squirrelly little mouth, but after a few weeks of hassling him, he'd learned to just drop it and judge him silently.

Percy snorted, still not completely fooled at his 'no problem' comment, "Fair enough. Though you seemed very desperate. So something's got to be up."

Grover looked thoughtful in the dim light of his cigarette. Thoughtful, and in a fragile state of nerve.

"Come on, man. Tell me," Percy prodded.

They walked on for a couple of strides, silent. Grover kept tonguing the butt of his cigarette, while Percy breathed out his faux smoke. In the end, Grover looked up through the dimness at the last strips of dusk and said, "Have you looked at a sunset lately? They're nice."

Percy followed Grover's line of sight towards the horizon. Sunset's are pretty things that Percy never paid much attention to. The closest thing to a romantic beach setting that Percy ever got was his desktop background.

Back at home, he can imagine that laptop in the same place he left it. On his bed. He had no idea that he'd never touch that laptop ever again. It stayed there, stuck on the same assignment while the nights events played out. Hell, he didn't even turn the T.V off.

It was while he was trying to figure out why Grover was so lousily changing the topic that his friend stopped dead in his tracks.

A man was walking towards them up the footpath. He wore a fedora and a fluro-yellow rain jacket, the type worn by policemen and lolly-pop ladies. Despite his attire, he was a big, intimidating bloke who radiated an aura of authority. He seemed normal enough; passable as an ordinary man walking home from work late in the afternoon.

Except his eyes glowed an unnatural yellow in the shadow of his face, as bright as his jacket.

"Let's take a short cut," Grover whimpered, and pulled Percy across the street. Illegally jay walking.

The man crossed the street as well. He sped up his steps to a fast walk. Grover's limps made him seem like he was galloping as he practically dragged Percy by the collar. Percy tore his hand away and sped up himself. The man was definitely following them. They came across a park and chose to cross the grass. They were eager to get to the safety of Grover's house.

It was at the fountain, in the middle of the park, that they were ambushed.

Like fireflies leaping out from tall grass, a dozen brightly-vested men manifested from between the shadowy trees. Grover stumbled to a stop, while Percy skidded on the heels of his sneakers. Adrenaline coursed through Percy's blood and his heart rate picked up.

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit..." Grover whimpered, "Percy, what do we do!?"

"I wouldn't know!" He squeaked, before cringing at the sound of himself. Multiple scenarios flicked through his brain. None were positive, no outcomes ended with everyone going home happy. It was then that Percy recognised the symbol on their vests; a symmetrical black shape resembling a bull. The officers of Olympus Asylum.

Percy yelled the first thing that came to mind;

_"We're not half-bloods!"_

They all paused, tilting their heads in unison as if they rehearsed it. There was a long, tense pause. Then they straightened. "One of you is," Said an officer with a bushy beard.

They all advanced on the young boys. One grabbed Grover before either noticed he'd gotten so close. Percy immediately lashed out. Grover was freed as Percy latched onto the man in a bad imitation of a piggy back ride. Another man tore Percy off his back almost too easily.

Percy's elbow came around and smashed his nose in, causing him to be dropped. Percy rolled under their legs when they tried to grab for him. They were huge men. They soon learned the tactics of his game of rolley-polley and caught him by the effective manoeuvre of collapsing down on him. All the air escaped Percy's lungs in a big huff, and his ribs were crushed painfully between a hard knee and even harder stone. They pulled him up and grabbed him by each limb.

Five of them surrounded him now. The one hugging his flailing left leg got out a syringe. Percy struggled widely, screaming like an animal, to no avail. The syringe punctured his thigh.

Just a moment too late, Grover came to the rescue with his belt. The snap of the belt came like a whip, and the man with the syringe swore, spit flying. Like an abusive drunk who just lost the lottery, Grover lashed out and beat their backs raw.

"Let! Him! Go!" He cried, punctuating each word with a satisfying _crack!_

They all dropped Percy — who let out an oomph at contact with the ground — and turned their undivided attention to their wannabe tamer. Grover went pale, his fluffy chin quivering.

They advanced and he bleated like a petrified goat. He whipped his belt around, frantically crying, "Back! Back! _Back, you foul beasts!"_

He stumbled, tripped, and a shoe went flying to reveal...

...a hoof.

The men stood straight. The one in the fedora reached down and easily tore Grover's pants off from his kicking legs, revealing his goat-y hind-quarters.

"A satyr...of course," He said turning, "That means this one is the half-blood."

He tilted his hat up, winking bright yellow eyes at Percy under the brim, "Kill the goat and bring the boy."

They pulled out their creamy white nightsticks and raised them high, ready to strike down on Grover's head and split it open like a red-centered coconut. Percy, blearily lying there with a half-emptied syringe still stuck in his leg, could barely understand what was going on. His brain was working in segments, spinning round and around like a roulette wheel, ticking past certain words. _Hoof...satyr...Grover...no pants...fluffy butt...kill the goat...kill the goat...kill the...the..._

No one's killing any goats on Percy's watch.

He drunkenly got on his hands and knees as he felt a hard tug in his stomach. Just as the nightsticks were being brought down, the fountain exploded.


End file.
